While the Angels Sang
by JacquiDee
Summary: While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby. Because they were never meant to be apart.


**A/N: Hello ducklings! So I'm not entirely sure where this came from, it just sort of attacked me while I was rereading some of my earlier works. This is a sequel to **_**Faithfully**_**, but you don't have to read that one to understand what's going on. I hope you guys like it and, as always, your reviews are practically begged for. They make me happy :D I do not own Criminal Minds, unfortunately, nor am I making money from this. Happy Reading!**

* * *

_For years and years_

_ She tried to hide the whiskey on her breath_

JJ sighed in frustration and ran her hands through her blonde hair, wincing as a few of the strands got trapped in the ring around her third finger. Her office felt claustrophobic and the mess of files on her desk was making her want to scream, no doubt side effects of not having a drink the entire day, not that coming to work had been easy anyway. She missed Spencer. It had been six months, three weeks, two days, and four hours of absolute hell since her soul mate had been taken away from her by a drunk driver before she had the chance to tell him she loved him. She missed his easy smile and chocolate eyes. She missed the body next to her on the plane rides home from cases that traumatized her. She missed the air of affection he had for only her. She missed Spencer. Leaning her elbows on the desk and resting her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath, trying to tell herself she was better than the bottle sitting at her house. She never used to drink. Hotch said that it was supposed to be easier by now. Of course, he had been shattered by the death of the youngest member of the team, they all had. But he said the first two or three months afterwards would be the worst and by the fifth and sixth she should start to be able to look back on their memories without the ache where her heart should be. The tear drop that leaked from her closed eyelids and splattered on the papers below had become so common place that she didn't even bother to wipe it away. A soft knock on her door had her jerking her head up to see Derek poking his head in, worry in his eyes.

"Hey JJ," he paused, taking in her mussed hair and bloodshot eyes. "Having a bad day?" he asked gently. She could barely remember the weeks immediately following the accident (most of them had been spent bawling until her sides ached in her bed or drowning her sorrows trying to find the bottom of the bottle), but she did recall the several times her brother-like co-worker had shown up to work with red, bleary eyes and tear stains on his face. She forced a hard smile for him and nodded, reminding herself that he missed his little brother too.

"Every day's a bad day," she admitted, leaning back into her chair and releasing a breath. She blinked up at the ceiling, trying to keep her tears at bay. When she dropped her eyes back to Derek, he folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. She bit her lip and asked in a small voice, "Hotch said it should be easier by now. Why isn't it?" He sighed and pushed off the door, moving to stand next to her behind her desk and crouching down to her level. Covering her hands carefully with his, he spoke softly.

"Hotch is very closed off about his emotions. It's okay to miss him Jayje. I miss him too. God, I miss him every day. I can't imagine what it's like for you, but, soon enough, you'll be able to look back on your memories with him, the little touches and smiles, and smile instead of cry. Time heals all wounds," he murmured, rubbing her skin. She stared at the wall behind his head, ignoring the water trails that were all too familiar on her face.

"'It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone'," she recited, almost mechanically, slowly moving her gaze back down to her friend's face. "Rose Kennedy," she said, replying to his raised eyebrow. "It was one of Spencer's favorite quotes." Derek sighed.

"Well, like you said. The pain lessens. We'll never be able to replace him. But we'll get stronger. He wouldn't have wanted us to lie down and die because of him." He stood, his joints popping as he walked to the doorway. "Stay strong JJ. We all love you," he added, no joking in his expression at all. She offered a tired smile and waved half-heartedly. "See you tomorrow." She took another few minutes to compose herself before she gathered her things and made her way to Hotch's office. She could hear him muttering, probably on the phone, but she only waited a second before knocking softly. There was a pause in the words.

"Come in," came the professional reply. She popped her head in through a crack in the door. He studied her face for a moment before saying into the phone, "I'll have to call you back." He hung up and turned his full attention to her. "JJ how've you been?" She took a moment to reply, carefully measuring her damn micro expressions and body reactions. A small smile appeared on her face but she moved her eyes and gazed out the window in his office, resting on the only empty desk in the bullpen.

"I miss him a lot. So much it feels like I'm drowning sometimes. I know it's no secret to you that there were feelings there between us that were never explored," she let out a breath and moved her eyes back to his face. "So I guess you could say I'm doing about as well as you were six months later." A tiny shadow of pain flickered across her Unit Chief's face and she instantly felt terrible. "I'm sorry. That's a lie. I'm probably much better than you were. A sadistic psychopath didn't attack me and then take him. That was over the line." His eyes softened.

"It's fine JJ. In a way, you're probably worse than I was. I had ample time between Foyet's escape and his attack to prepare. No one could have ever predicted Reid." Her eyes stung and she bit down on her lip to stop the flow of tears. So much for controlling her micro expressions. His voice was very gentle and understanding when he continued. "I also had a good life with Hayley, she gave me a son, we were married. I can hardly imagine what it's like to love and lose someone without ever having them." For an odd reason, she appreciated Hotch's bluntness. Everyone else had been walking on eggshells around her, afraid that the littlest slip would make her break. Her boss saw it like it was and expected the same from everyone else.

"Thanks Aaron. I'm heading out," she sighed, nodding in his direction as she slipped out the door. She could practically feel his worried eyes on her as she made her way to the elevator. As per usual, she didn't head straight home. She took the long way, making a detour to Quantico National Cemetery where her heart lay buried six feet under, roses in her back seat. Not surprisingly, no one else was there and she parked sloppily before climbing out. Even in the dark, it took her less than five minutes to make it to a spot she'd visited every single day, spare case days, since the accident. Most people were uneasy in a cemetery, let alone a cemetery at night, but JJ had seen too much to particularly care what murderers were lurking in the shadows, and besides, there was a gun strapped to her hip. She settled down in the grass that had grown rather quickly and lightly traced the words on his headstone with her fingertips. So many bunches of flowers surrounded it from the team and from her that there was almost no more room, but she nestled the yellow roses in right next to his grave.

"Hey Spence. It was a bad day. I can't stop thinking about going home for a drink, even though I know you'd never let me do this to myself, just like I didn't let you do Dilaudid. But you're not here to stop me, and I don't want to stop. The whiskey stops the pain. It hasn't done very good lately, but that's only because I've been drinking it too often." The tears were flowing heavily down her cheeks and she was sucking in shaky breaths every few syllables. "Spencer, God I miss you so much. There are so many days I just want to hunt down the son of a bitch that did this to you and kill him. B-but it won't bring you back to me. I love you, so much, and you aren't here to say it back to me. Breathing is such a battle, I just want to lay down and lose," she sobbed, curling into a ball on the grass, clutching at the marble grave stone that she kept spotless with weekly washings. She didn't know how long she lay there bawling her heart out, but eventually there were no more tears left for her to cry. She sat up, not bothering to brush the grass from her hair. She felt hollow and empty, and she truly didn't see the point in living anymore. Oh, she knew it would devastate her team to lose her, especially so shortly after the loss of Spencer. But she couldn't think long term. She just wanted a solution to the pain. She lightly traced the words on the headstone, closing her visiting ritual and stood. "Soon baby. Soon."

_ We watched her drink her pain away a little at a time_

_ But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind_

Hotch frowned, reflecting, for about the millionth time on his conversation with JJ a few hours ago. Something was off; he could feel it in his gut. He was no fool. He knew she'd been drinking, he could tell, especially on Mondays when her eyes were still red and her speech not as distinct. She had gone from exceptionally emotional, to the point of swallowing back tears, to detached and uncaring. He didn't want to think about what that meant. It was only reflecting on the last bit of the conversation that he dropped his paperwork, ignoring the mess it had made on the floor, and dove for the phone, dialing so quickly he had to hang up twice and try again. She'd called him Aaron.

"Morgan," he snapped into the phone. "Get to JJ's house _now_. Don't take Prentiss and _don't _tell Garcia." There was a pause as Derek demanded to know what the hell was going on. "I think she's going to kill herself."

Derek had never driven as fast in his life as he did in between the call to Hotch and the drive to JJ's. He didn't know how Hotch had come to that deduction, but it was a matter to serious to ask questions on. He knew that Jayje had been destroyed lately, and why shouldn't she be? If someone took Penny from him before he got to tell her… he couldn't even think about the pain that that must cause. But suicidal? Thinking back on it, he did recognize some of the signs, he just didn't want to admit that to himself, otherwise he'd blame himself for not seeing it sooner. He was no fool. He knew she'd been drinking; he could tell. Of course, this obvious tell-tale sign had him driving even faster. The car screeched as he slammed the breaks and he was out the door in a matter of seconds. A piece of paper was taped to her door. He read the words, falling on his knees, scrambling away from it, falling down the steps in the process. He could barely still his shaking hands enough to dial.

"Hotch, man, get here, now. Damn it, Hotch, don't tell Penny."

_Until the night_

_ She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger_

_ And finally drank away his memory_

She was surprisingly calm as she stared at the Glock in her hands. She turned it over, feeling the smooth black surface. For a moment, she felt bad about deserting her team, which is what prompted her to leave the small white paper taped to her door. But the moment passed and all she was left with was the unending ocean of pain she'd been drowning in. She bit her lip and held the gun in a way she never thought she would. Just like her sister.

"I'm coming Spence."

Bang.

_We found her with her face down in the pillow_

_ Clinging to his picture for dear life_

In all his life, Morgan had only even heard Hotch cry when Foyet shot Hayley and then again when Reid had died. It was almost nothing compared to the sobs wracking his boss's body when he'd arrived at the house, Rossi in tow. He'd kicked down the door, prepared to search, but she was right there, right on the sofa. Hotch had had to stumble out and he'd lost it seconds later. Rossi merely closed his eyes, bringing a hand to his face and letting the tears trail silently. Morgan couldn't even find the heart to cry.

_ We laid her next to him beneath the willow_

_ While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby_

It was the second funeral in six months. Morgan had handled calling Penny and Hotch had taken it on himself to tell Emily. The only good thing that had come from so much loss was love. Emily's car had screeched to a stop, similar to Derek, tears already streaming down her face. She'd rushed to the door, but Hotch had snagged her last minute.

"You don't want to see her like this," he'd murmured, tears still fresh on his face.

"Like hell I don't! She was my friend!" Emily struggled and finally broke down, clinging to Hotch. He'd gently raised her chin.

"You still have me," he'd whispered, pressing his lips to hers. She'd seemed shocked, but she gave up in a matter of seconds, letting the pain reveal what both had kept hidden. Derek and Penelope's encounter had been similar. So now they all stood in pairs, even Rossi with Straus (which, in light of the events, had almost been too much to handle), mourning the loss of the last half of the original un-couple. They buried her only feet from Spencer, knowing that anywhere else would put her soul in perpetual turmoil.

_ La la la la la la la _

Spencer felt a strange pull in the center of himself towards his headstone, one he hadn't felt since his funeral. He let his spirit travel towards the spot where his body laid and peered down to see the team gathered there yet again. He raised an eyebrow, wondering why they were here again, but it took only seconds for him to process that they weren't surrounding his grave. He dropped down amongst them, noting reactions to his familiar presence from only Morgan and Emily. He drifted slightly closer, squinting at the small marble structure next to his own. _Jennifer "JJ" Jareau_. He felt as if, had he still be alive, he'd have died. He shot back to where he had come from, pacing the small patch of sky above Quantico he'd made his own.

"Can't be right," he muttered to himself, pacing restlessly.

"Spencer." The voice made him stop in his tracks and turn slowly. She was the thing he had most missed from his time on earth. Her long blonde hair shone and her blue eyes awakened the same feelings they had from his first glimpse of her. She smiled angelically.

"Jayje, what…what the hell?" he sputtered, rushing towards her and enveloping her in a hug. She pulled back and pecked him on the lips, startling him.

"I'm home baby."

_ While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby_

**Penny/Emily,**

** If you're the ones who've come to look for me, don't come inside. Call Morgan. Or Rossi. Or Hotch. I don't want you to see this.**

** So much love,**

** JJ**


End file.
